


Half Moon

by conceptofzero



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3233414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conceptofzero/pseuds/conceptofzero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been a weird few months since they broke up. Not that Fin's entirely sure he can call it a breakup when neither of them even know what charms they were in, or how many. He always thought it was a trove by the end: Hearts, Crescents and Rainbows; but Quarters had looked at him like he was nuts and muttered about how it didn't matter. Fin didn't agree and still doesn't but Quarters wasn't entirely wrong either. Fin feels as sad now as he would if there had only been one charm - even if it was only Horseshoes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half Moon

It had been a weird few months since they broke up. Not that Fin's entirely sure he can call it a breakup when neither of them even know what charms they were in, or how many. He always thought it was a trove by the end: Hearts, Crescents and Rainbows; but Quarters had looked at him like he was nuts and muttered about how it didn't matter. Fin didn't agree and still doesn't but Quarters wasn't entirely wrong either. Fin feels as sad now as he would if there had only been one charm - even if it was only Horseshoes. 

Quarters didn't seem to care. He did what he always did before. Fin tried to do the same, playing it off like they hadn't dated at all. He wasn't as good at it, but he kept it up in public, and the few times he got so drunk that he cried it was around Trace, who only gave him mild shit about it. Meanwhile, he knew for a fact that Quarters wasn't getting weepy drunk or getting caught by the other guys looking at Fin longingly. He drank the usual amounts and didn't look at Fin at all, except when he wanted a bottle that was closer to Fin than anyone else. 

It would have been easier if they didn’t have to be around each other or if Quarters could have been easily hated. Fin tried but he couldn't get angry about it, just sad and pathetic. And he hated being sad and pathetic. It brought him down and when he was down, he knew he brought down everyone else. It was hard to have fun with one person sulking or sighing or just sitting around like the world ended. So he was trying hard to be normal.

The acthad worked a little too well if he was being honest because he got dragged out on the town with the Felt and crammed in a booth with Quarters while drinking, pressed right up against his ex's muscley side, feeling him shake every time he let out a loud, long stream of "ha ha ha!"s at his own jokes. Fin found himself drinking hard and fast, knocking back whiskey like it was the end times. The booze didn't make it better. Mostly it just made it hard for Fin to remember he couldn't just drop a hand on Quarters' thigh and squeeze anytime he told a joke. He did it once but got his hand off just quick enough that Quarters hadn't said anything about it, though he had given Fin a sharp look as if he wasn’t sure if it had actually happened.

He could feel the look of pity Trace kept shooting at him through this whole thing and he was trying hard to ignore it. Fin was over it, okay? He was fucking over it and he was drinking for his own sake. Quarters would go home with someone else and maybe Fin would too. Clover kept jigging at him, so maybe he would eventually take him up on it (though to be fair, Clover jigged at anybody who would look his way. He was even out jigging at carapacians on the dance floor right now and they didn’t understand how filthy that was). He just had to focus on his drink and stop thinking about how close Quarters was to him and how easy it would be to just bump their knees together like the old days and to go see if maybe just this once, Quarters would give in and let them be together again. 

It had been okay even after all those ugly thoughts and impulses he managed not to act on, right up until Itchy said something to the big group of carapacians sitting at the bar and the next thing anybody knew, one guy throwing punches at Itchy and another had pulled a knife. It all went downhill from there until half the bar was brawling and the police were trying to wade through the crowd to get their hands on instigators. The Felt had split like rats scurrying from a sinking ship, going every which way and getting the Fuck away from anything or anyone in blue. 

And that's how Fin and Quarters ended up separated from everyone and stuck hiding in an alleyway. Fin was grateful for the rainstorm that had blown through earlier in the week, even if it had been a nightmarish downpour, because at least it meant that the smell of piss and puke had been washed away and he wasn't stuck gagging while they waited for the boys in blue to bail. 

"I fucking knew I should have brought my mini gun," Quarters mumbles, his eyes on the cops. He's unhappily crouched behind a dumpster and Fin's tucked in beside him, because the world sucks and wants to make him suffer. Fin’s just trying to keep quiet so maybe Quarters doesn’t notice that he’s closer than he needs to be, and that he’s got his head half-turned to take in Quarters’ scent. He’s missed that smell so much, gun oil and sweat and that musky aftershave that he slaps on first thing in the morning. “I could wipe them out in a heartbeat instead of hiding.” 

“Mmhm,” Fin agrees without saying a word, one eye on the cops lingering around and another on Quarters. After a few months, he would have figured that maybe he wouldn’t feel like this anymore, but it seems like it’s only gotten worse as time’s gone on. The whiskey he’s had tonight probably isn’t helping, though he doesn’t really want to blame the booze. At worst, it brought everything he was already feeling to the surface where it was impossible to easily shut it out. But if he kept his mouth shut, it would be okay. The cops would move on and they could find the guys again and Fin could go sleep this off somewhere, with somebody else if he wanted to. And Quarters could go back to drinking and laughing and having fun like nothing had changed. 

Quiet turns out to be a good choice as the cops flash their light down the alleyway and Quarters ends up yanking Fin closer to him andaway from the edge of the dumpster. They stay still and silent as the light illuminates trash cans and the dumpster, casting long shadows before it shuts off. They talk among themselves a little and it gets fainter and fainter until the cars start up, and the police finally move away. 

Fin lets out the breath he’s been holding, glad they didn’t get caught. Now it’s a matter of trying to figure out where the others went. And uh. Waiting for Quarters to let go of him since he’s got one big arm slung around Fin’s chest, keeping him close. 

“Quarters?” He says after a moment, twisting his head to try look over at him. Quarters has a sharp look in his eyes and Fin’s not sure what it means, only that it scares him a little. “Hey, what-”

He doesn’t finish, because before he can even put the words together, Quarters shoves Fin against the bricks hard enough to wind him. Fin’s jaw drops open as he tries to catch his breath, and while his lungs try futilely to pull in air, his mouth’s blocked by Quarters’. He kisses Fin roughly, cutting up his lips on the sharp edges of his beak and he can feel his teeth scratching up Quarters’. ‘Everyone’s going to know what we did’, he thinks. The next quick though is ‘I can’t breathe’, and then ‘finally finally oh god finally’ as he ignores the way his lungs burn and shoves up into the kiss. 

By the time Quarters backs off and Fin finally manages to get a good lungful of air in, dismissing the black spots creeping in at the side of his eyes, he’s got a whole other mess of problems to worry about. Mostly the problem of why his ex is kissing him after ignoring him for months and acting like everything was completely fine. “H-hey, Quarters-”

Another kiss. This one is clearly meant to silence him. Fin feels Quarters push up against him, his cock already hard and swelling against his fly and Fin feels his own jump in response, thickening up in a heartbeat. He shoves back, and though the heights are all wrong, he ruts just above Quarters’ knee anyways while Quarters rubs himself on Fin’s chest. The kissing requires Quarters to bow and Fin to stretch up, and he hears Quarters get frustrated, grabbing hold of Fin and yanking him up until their hips are flush and they don’t have nearly as far to go to kiss. 

Why now, he wants to demand, why after months of letting me be miserable and fucking sad? Why wait until we’re being hunted down by cops and stuck in a grimy alleyway? He could stop it and ask but he doesn’t dare, in case Quarters decides that he doesn’t want questions and that he’d rather walk away from this than explain why. He just might. That’s Quarters in a nutshell: unwilling to ever speak and explain things when he can just grunt and stomp off. 

It’s a bad idea and he knows it is but he also doesn’t care at all. After months of trying to pretend that he’s okay and over Quarters, it’s a relief to be able to drop the act. He shoves his hands under Quarters’ coat and over that broad chest. He’s missed it so bad, and he’s missed the way it feels to have Quarters’ weight on him, and he’s even missed the way his beak cuts Fin open as they kiss.

Quarters has never kissed Fin this hard before though. They’ve always had to be careful and finally they aren’t. He bites at Quarters’ beak, his sharp teeth scratching up the hard surface. Even if Quarters drops him right now and walks away, he won’t be able to hide what he did, or who he did it with. Fin feels a little thrill in his chest at that thought. He can’t just ignore Fin anymore after this. He’ll have to acknowledge the truth - that he still wants Fin too. 

They paw at each other, Fin at Quarters’ body and Quarters at their flies. He gets them open and their cocks out, one big hand wrapping around Fin’s shaft and giving him a bunch of quick, hard strokes. Fin doesn’t need prompting to return the favour, getting his own hand around Quarters’ cock. He’s already halfway to hard and it takes less than three strokes before he feels him stiffen up completely, and feels the low rumble in Quarters’ chest that means he’s suppressing a moan. 

They pull away to breathe again and he can taste his own blood, trickling out of the cuts on his lips. If this was any other situation, he’d start trying to talk to him, to- to talk about how turned on he was, or how good it felt to have a cock in his hand that didn’t belong to him, or that he missed Quarters (and he’d missed him so fucking bad). But he doesn’t trust this to keep going if he does, and he doesn’t want to miss out in case this really is the last time. Fin wants as much time as he can steal pressed between Quarters and the brick wall, rocking his hips up into Quarters’ demanding fist. 

There’s the sound of sirens somewhere in the distance, and muffled music from the bars, and the heavy, straining sound of their breath coming in puffs. Quarters looks down at Fin and though he half expects him to look away, Quarters doesn’t. That sharp look is still there, something between hungry and pissed off. Fin figures he shouldn’t be this turned on by it but he is, and it’s not like he can change what gets him hard. Quarters’ mouth is partly open and Fin can see all the deep scratches he’d left behind, white streaks against the green where shell’s flaked away. Fin just tilts his head up and lets the few trickles of blood on his lips roll out of his mouth. 

“Fuck,” says Quarters, and Fin can’t tell if he’s mad or turned on. Probably both, knowing him. Either way, he strokes faster, and so Fin does too, until they’re both desperately squeezing each other’s cocks and playing chicken to see who’ll come first. Fin breaks eye contact first, looking down to watch. Quarters’ hand nearly swallows Fin’s cock whole and he grips Fin tighter the moment he realizes he’s being watched. Fin just keeps stroking with his hand, though now that he’s looking, he teases Quarters a little, rubbing his thumb over the head of Quarters’ cock and watching him go red as that’s the only satisfaction he gets. “Get on with it.” 

“Make me.” He’s never said anything like that before. It’s a first and it fucking thrills him to see Quarters’ eyes widen a little, furious and shocked, and then narrow back up. Fin keeps on just rubbing the tip of the head with the center of his palm, knowing that it feels good but it won’t be enough for him to come from. “You want this, you can work for i-” 

The hand leaves his cock and then he’s completely trapped against the walls, hips flush and legs dangling down and the hand that was on his cock is now around his throat. Fin gasps and draws his own hands back and the groaning noise he makes is split evenly between pain and pleasure. It chokes him, tight enough to make it hard to breathe but not so tight that he can’t enjoy the feeling of their cocks rubbing up against the other. It’s so good and he hates how good it feels to be choked, but not nearly enough to ruin it. 

Quarters’ hips get rocking again and he rubs them both out at the same time, their cocks rubbing up against the fabric of their pants and shirts, as well as against the soft wet flesh along each shaft. The precum they’re both leaking keeps it from getting too rough to enjoy, but Fin’s not sure if he’s going to be able to walk out of here without skulking since they’re both going to have damp spots on the fronts of their clothes. Might as well just scream to the world ‘I fucked my stupid goddamn ex in a back alley’. Maybe that’s exactly what he wants to do. 

Maybe he fucking wants there to be proof that Quarters still needs him, still wants him, no matter how much he acted like he didn’t. Fin bunches his hands in Quarters clothes and digs his fingers into the skin, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise. He wants Quarters to take this shirt off tomorrow and to see yellow little fingerprints that he can’t brush off. Fin’s so close to Quarters’ chest and it’s easy to just open his mouth and nip at Quarters, to let his teeth rip into the shirt and to hear the snarl as his teeth snag skin. It doesn’t slow or stop Quarters at all. He’s pretty sure it makes him rut up against Fin even harder. Fuck, he loves him. He still loves him. It’s been a month and he feels his heart squeeze tight as he looks up at Quarters. And Quarters stares right back down at Fin, looking at him like he’s a starving man staring at a feast behind a window, and he’s got a rock in his hand. He’s going to break Fin wide open and leave him in ruins and Fin doesn’t even care because he’s so fucking tired of waiting and pretending that he’s okay.

Fin can feel it rising and his hips buck up against Quarters, desperate uneven thrusts trying to find the rhythm and steady pace he needs. It’s hard when he’s flush against the brick wall, the full weight of Quarters’ body lying on him, and that fucking hand is still around his throat, but he’s not going to let that stop him. Fin won’t bother trying to hold on or wait for Quarters - he just wants his fucking orgasm now, right now, before Quarters comes and dumps him on the floor or walks away or something just as shitty like that. Fin keeps his fingers digging in deep and he hears Quarters hiss angrily in pain, and that’s it, that gets his cock twitching hard. He’s hurt him and Quarters can’t take that away from Fin. 

Quarters’ hand tightens and tightens and it’s impossible to breathe and then Fin feels himself tip over the wave, coming with a silenced shout. It’s a fucking hard one and he feels his whole body lock up, thighs so tense that the muscles are going to ache tomorrow and his feet cramp up until they’re turning the soles into half-moons. Like their charm, like the fucking charm Quarters refused to admit they were in.

There’s a frustrated snarl from Quarters and the pressure on Fin gets painful before the hand on his throat drops away, replaced by Quarters’ body. He doesn’t care. Quarters ruts on Fin hard and fast, his cock drilling up against Fin’s belly, making a mess of them both. Fin’s hands just clutch against Quarters and he takes ragged breath after ragged breath, eyes locked on Quarters’ face. He’s careful to keep watching when he comes, taking in every last detail as he throws his head back and his face squeezes up, and as his body bucks hard enough into Fin to leave bruises. There’s something hot and wet against his belly, and Fin can’t see but he can feel Quarters’ cum ruining his clothes utterly. 

And then it’s okay, and the weight lessens until Fin’s let go. He slides down the wall, getting his legs under him, though they don’t do much good when he keeps sliding down until he’s on the ground. His clothes are a mess of wet white and green. There’s no amount of skulking in the world to hide this. One look and anyone will know what happened. Fin looks down and he just fucking laughs to himself, letting it fill the alleyway. 

Quarters seems to remember that there’s a world outside of his orgasm. He looks down at Fin and the mess he’s made, and then at himself. There’s the same wet mess on him. Fin laughs harder. They’re both fucked. 

The laughter stops when they hear footsteps coming near. Fin’s teeth clank when he fits his jaw back together, and he can feel the ache in his lips where they’ve been all cut up, pain leaking back in now that his dick isn’t busy monopolizing all of his senses. They watch the alleyway mouth carefully, but it’s just a pedestrian walking by. He doesn’t turn to look down the alley and misses them entirely, with Quarters standing still and Fin sitting beside the dumpster like he’s another bag of trash. 

When the guy’s gone, Fin slowly gets to his feet. Quarters doesn’t make a move to help him, just watching instead as Fin tucks his cock away and gets his pants done up as best he can. The button for his fly is missing. He’s going to end up holding it up with one hand while he walks. 

He waits for Quarters to say something and let Fin know exactly how this is supposed to play out. But he just keeps staring at Fin with that inscrutable look on his face. Fin didn’t like it much before and he really doesn’t like it now, feeling his stomach twist a little as it doesn’t fade. Doesn’t he have fucking anything worth saying? Fin’s not expecting a reconciliation. They didn’t fuck like it was them getting back together, but they did fuck. 

Fin can’t stand it. He doesn’t know what Quarters is thinking or feeling or what, but he fucking hates it, and hates feeling like he’s the one who’s got to just stand here and wait for him to make up his mind about what this was and what it means. Fin starts walking, doing his best to move forward even as his legs start swaying. He pushes past Quarters and heads for the mouth of the alley.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Quarters clicks his beak a moment after the words come out, looking like he’s pissed. Who’s he angry at though, Fin or himself for saying anything? 

“I’m getting something clean to wear, and then I’m going home.” Fin says and it hurts to speak. There’s a ring of bruises forming around his throat, like some fucked up jewelry. He eyes up Quarters and part of him wants badly to just walk over to him and to ask him to give the charm thing another shot. Or hell, forget the charms, they could just start over, go back to fucking on the side and hope that maybe this time, Quarters would be ready to charm up. 

Except he knows he can’t do either of those. If he goes back, Quarters will push him away. He was always busy pretending like he didn’t need Fin when they were together. This would be just more of that. And if they tried to go back to fuck buddies, he knows it would just end up in this inevitable end, with Quarters being too arrogant and too much of an asshole to admit he needs anybody, and Fin feeling tired and sad and so desperate to have Quarters even for a little bit that he’s willing to put up with this shit. 

“This was fun but uh, don’t do it again.” Fin says, ignoring the way his heart aches. He holds himself straight as an arrow, hiding the way he’s trembling under his clothes. Fin feels cold and the mess drying on his stomach is already chilled and a reminder that no matter how nice it felt, it probably wasn’t worth the walk of shame he’s got in front of him. “You made things clear when we broke up.” 

“What? You’re the one who kept staring at me all night!” Quarters snaps and it’s almost a relief to see him like this. At least Fin knows how to deal with him when he’s this kind of angry. “You keep fucking staring at me-”

“And I won’t anymore. Don’t you worry about that. I’ll keep my eyes on somebody else. All this was nothing to me, since that’s the way you like it,” he says, and it shouldn’t feel good to see Quarters’ eyes flash with rage but it does. It fucking does. Fin keeps moving, taking a quick few steps when he hears Quarters move behind him. He’s out the alleyway mouth and onto the sidewalk, and he moves quick, looking for a store to break into or somebody’s clothesline with pants and a shirt he can ‘borrow’. Quarters is coming up behind him but Fin keeps moving, forcing him to chase him-

The hand catches the back of his collar and Quarters yanks Fin back and around, and they’re out in the open with the streetlights on them and there aren’t exactly a lot of people out here, further away or looking down from windows, but they’re not hiding in the alleyway anymore. Neither of them can pretend they’re not being watched. Quarters can’t act like this is something that just ‘happened’. 

Quarters is so much bigger than Fin but he’s smiling, he’s almost laughing. “You chased after me,” Fin points out, and he grins bigger because maybe all the cuts on their faces will fade and the bruises will eventually go away, but he can’t undo this, “you ran.” 

“I-” It finally hits Quarters, and his beak gapes, and then it clacks closed like a shutter. He’s glaring down at Fin like he just got trapped. 

“I want a charm.” Fin says. It feels good to dictate this stuff instead of waiting quietly for Quarters to decide if he’s doing something or not. “Half-moons and hearts for sure. You can either fill them, or you can stay away from me. Now I’m getting a change of clothes before the police show up again.” 

He pulls out of Quarters’ grip and gets moving. His legs still shake a little but he moves confidently forward. Fin doesn’t care if Quarters follows or not. He can, or he can’t, but either way, it’s Fin who’s deciding things this time instead of being decided for. It’s Fin’s turn to move forward and leave Quarters in the dust. 

But he still listens as he walks, just in case.


End file.
